SPACE 'whats the difference between JAM and jelly? I can't jelly my co
by kawaii-fixing-desu
Summary: Bugs had not been satisfied in a long time... after the awkward fumblings of a first love, he craved another romp, another slap and tickle. He knew just the man.
1. Chapter 1: Sweat

**SPACE** 'whats the difference between **JAM** and jelly? I can't jelly my cock up your arse'.

Chapter 1: Sweat

Bugs watched in awe as the taller man ran across the court, sweat dripping from his forehead and down his chiselled, angular face. His large feet hit the ground with such a force which made the rabbit shiver.

' _Such strength… such power…'_ thought Bugs.

Michael Jordan skidded to a halt just before the hoop, poised to shoot. Bugs felt his heart flutter, for this was what he longed to see all day, this is the sight he dreamed about. The darker man's arm extended, and as always, with perfect aim scored a basket. With a satisfied smile, Michael Jordan pumped the air, and the smaller male took particular note of his physical form, muscles bulging under perfect, dark skin; his pores becoming saturated with sweat. The once loquacious rabbit, was now silent, stunned so by the black beauty before him, allowing the pungent musk of the taller man to fill his nostrils.

"How'dya like that? Not bad eh, Bugs?" Michael panted, with a cheeky smile, thumb turned skyward.

Bugs gasped, taken aback by the low, ethnic tones. All he could do was stifle an awkward laugh, and bite his lip with his oversized teeth. He shot a coy glance towards the muscular male, but he had already turned his attention towards the hoop.

Feeling slightly deflated by the fact that he would never taste the African platter of Michael Jordan's chest, he sighed, looking down at his rabbit feet, but all he could see was his bulge trying desperately to free itself from his white boxers.

' _White… good choice of colour'_.

He slumped down onto the bench, crossing his legs to hide his sensitive manhood. The darker man seemed to sense that the rabbit was unhappy, for he started to saunter over. Bugs looked upwards, and up some more, only to see the giant whom he worshipped looming above him. Sweat dripped onto bugs, making him shiver and become very aware of himself. He shifted awkwardly, blushing slightly, for he didn't know how to hide his feelings. He never had. Ever since he discovered the use for his southern region, Bugs had struggled being around other males.

Memories of his first experience with a man sped through his mind: the fumbling, the confusion, the strange smells and noises, the fact he stuck it in the wrong hole.

"Why do I have to remember that now, of all times?" Bugs cursed under his breath, looking down.

"Hey now, what's the matter, Bugs? You can tell me anything, you know. I am your buddy after all." Michael Jordan said breathily, hands raising to his hips.

The rabbit blushed harder, raising his hand behind his head to wipe away sweat. Even just hearing Michael say his name and call him his buddy was enough to make his bell swell.

"I-I guess I just can't concentrate on the game right now…" Bugs stuttered.

"Are ya thinking about your potential slavery to a pesky, minion-like race?"

Bugs made this noise watch?v=t8NF166Ywos

His mind was suddenly flooded with images of Michael Jordan shackled, beaten, strapped to a star and forced to play one-on-one with a paying customer, where he will always lose. His face flushed red, his ears becoming hot as his kink rolled around in his mind.

The dark man gracefully glided to the rabbit's side, with only half an inch between them. Bugs could hear his breath and see the sweat beads above his forehead. His eyes were so kind, and they made Bugs melt. He knew, if they lost the game that he would be forced into a life of slavery, never having tasted the African with his own lips, never having gazed upon his textured skin. Bugs felt a jolt go through him, and as if by instinct, his gloved hand grasped the meaty flesh of the dark thigh. The larger male stiffened, and Bugs could feel the muscles below his hand tighten. He looked at the tall man's expression, which seemed somewhat offended. Had he squandered his only chance? Had he ruined his friendship forever? The furry male's mind raced, trying to find the words to explain his sudden display of affection towards the God-like American.

Michael Jordan felt a shiver rush up his leg, from where the gloved hand had touched him, and he felt a stirring in a place he had almost forgotten existed. It was true, he had not been satisfied in a long time. Since realising his sexuality, he just couldn't perform for his wife, and often went to sleep before even making half-time. His eyes lowered, landing upon the furry beast below him. Why hadn't he moved his hand yet? C-Could it be? This was more than just basketball comradery; the trembling of the rabbit's hand suggested such. Of course, he had patted the buttocks of fellow teammates, and even kissed the forehead of his Power Forward. But never had it felt so… pure. So… special.

The taller man extended his arm and placed his very large hand upon the small, furry one. The light of day trickled through the windowpane, landing beautifully on the rabbit's face, dancing through his whiskers and lighting up his features. Michael had never before noticed just how handsome his teammate truly was, and a shiver ran up his spine.

He edged ever closer to the other man, their thighs now rubbing together. He leaned down, pressing his lips against Bugs' parted ones, and a soft noise emitted from inside the smaller man. He felt him relaxing into him, Bugs' hand becoming more adventurous.

The rabbit's hand shamelessly explored the contours and undulations of his broad chest, reaching underneath his sports shirt. He now learned how good these shirts truly were at wicking away sweat from the body, as 'neath the shirt he was sodden.

The taller man's head suddenly jerked back as the rabbit found his pink nubs, and was beginning to circle his furry finger around the flushed flesh. Sweat started to bead around his southern regions, acting as a lubricant for possible future endeavours. His eyes widened, his breath quickened just as did the rabbit's finger which was toying with his sensitive nubbins. He longed for more, he needed Bugs' attention lower.

A fleck of salvia was pooling below bugs' giant teeth, all of his concentration on pleasing the black beauty before him. Oh how had longed to feel the soft skin which protruded from Michael's gleaming chest. He sensed that the larger man needed more. He needed Bugs.

Almost like a primal urge, Michael grabbed Bugs' wrist and plunged his small glove clad hand southwards, towards his black pudding. Bugs had thought long and hard about the black pudding. It had been the focal point of many dreams, along with the dark specimen that came with it. It was not as large as he had hoped, but did that matter? Fuck no. Bugs' carrot became enlarged further, ready for plucking.

He started to palm the erection, almost as if trying to spark flames, feeling the textures and the ripples. The larger man let out a naughty moan, like this was the first time he had been touched like this. Bugs' face started to burn after hearing this sound, the sound he could only imagine beforehand. He looked at Michael's face, which was a picture of ecstasy and pleasure, it was a magnificent sight to behold. The rabbit picked up the pace, fastening a tight grip around the trunk of Michael's boab tree. He slipped his furry finger inside the jap's eye, and was reminded of the many times he had placed his finger in Elma Fudd's gun, to avoid death. This thought sent a rush of adrenaline straight to his dark place. The taller man let out a gasp, his breathing quickened.

Michael turned his head slowly to look down upon the smaller man. He had to be inside, he had to feel the soft warm cavern envelop his basketballs. He longed to be pulled into the dark hole, like he had been pulled through hole 9 on that golf course on the day when they met. With a sudden movement, which made Bugs jump, Michael hauled his giant torso over the grey male, dominating him. Bugs had no way of escaping, not that he wanted to. This was the moment he had dreamt of for so long, this is what he deserved. He allowed the muscular man to force his hands above his head, and in a futile attempt he tried to take off his gloves, but the darker man swatted his hand away from doing so.

"Leave the gloves on" Michael cooed, in low, African tones. Bugs did as he was told, not that he could have fought against such a powerful being. The primal man hurriedly started undoing his basketball shorts with his free hand that wasn't shackling the rabbit. Bugs took this as a nod to start doing this same with his shorts, and wiggled his hips from right to left trying to release his aching manhood from its nylon cage. Michael saw him struggling, and kindly came to his aid. Soon they were both stark naked, but they didn't feel insecure as any flesh was quickly pressed against fur.

Eager to begin, Michael Jordan placed his giant hands on the insides of Bug's thighs, forcing them apart. He positioned his invasion just outside from the puckered rabbit hole. He hoped Bugs was ready and glanced upwards to try and work out what the rabbit, but was greeted by sounds of panting and hungry, pleading eyes that said they needed him. With no hesitation, he aimed straight for the hoop, and could almost hear the commentator saying _"I think he touched some rim on that one"._

" _THAT BALL TOUCHED EVERY PART OF THE RIM"_

Michael Jordan eased his weight onto the small hips of the rabbit, and must have grazed past his prostate, for the sound that the smaller man made was heavenly. The American took this as permission to keep going, going hard.

" _He's driving to the hole!"_

After the heavy petting session, the bald man was close to his climax, but he knew this wasn't the case for the rabbit. He swiftly grasped Bugs' sore member and started pumping.

 _"Wham with the right hand!"_

Michael Jordan's timing was perfect as always, for almost within the same second they both came. The larger man collapsed upon the small lapin, shuddering. Luckily his sports towel was at arm's reach, thus he could mop up the cum and dab off his sweat.

"This is supposed to be a non-contact sport" chortled Bugs.


	2. Chapter 2: Basshunter

Part 2: Bass Hunter

For hours they lay. The sports towel had not packed sufficient capacity to absorb the mingled juices of the pair, leaving them slightly welded to the bleachers; they did not mind. No words were spoken after the copulation, no words were needed. A gentle air current was trickling through the vent just above them, drying their sweat and leaving them caked in salt. The sun reached its zenith (the pair had reached their zenith hours before) and light streamed through the high windows of the gym. The light licked bugs' eyelids gently awakening him from his peaceful slumber. He felt the dark warmth of the dusky man's thick biceps around his breast, and a slight tingling soreness from his dynamite stick. He smiled as he recalled the events mere hours ago: the heaving of bosoms, the swinging of man fruits, seeing Michael blossom into orgasm. The furry male peered upwards at his sun-kissed African, the light dancing through his lashes. He strains to plant a kiss on the darker man's chin, but hopelessly misses and instead sucks on the African's nose.

Michael awoke with a start, snorting loudly. Many would have seen this as an unattractive trait, but it sent shivers down Bugs' body, lighting a fire below. They locked lips, their tongues circling each other, like a defender desperately trying to stop the power forward. Michael drove his long, black tongue down Bugs' throat.

Five minutes later, Bugs had stopped vomiting. This was a strange, but definite full stop to the evening. The larger male soothed the sick man, and gently helped him to his feet. Michael grabbed another towel from behind the bleachers, to wipe down the grey male. It was strangely wet, as though somebody had been crying on it? Michael had little time to ponder over this though, as Bugs ripped the towel from his colossal hands, and wearily wiped himself somewhat clean. They both let out a sigh, part nerves, part desire. The two men made their way out of the gym, their place of sin. "c'mon Bugs… let's hit the shower" cooed the brown one.

…

The gym fell silent, a stark contrast to the previous choir of moans and grunts. From behind the bleachers emerged a dishevelled, shivering figure. A dark cat. Sylvester J. Pussycat Sr. stumbled around the gym, camera in hand. He made for the door, but his knees buckled before he even reached the halfway line. What he had seen had awakened a spark within him. He always knew on which side his bread was buttered. Ever since he bought that Basshunter poster, and would stare at it with his balls hanging out, he knew he leaned more towards the sausage than the tweety pie. But this event, which so offensively unfolded before his eyes; before the lens of his camera, had shattered any heterosexuality he had previously attempted to cling to. Now he craved dick. And he would do anything to get it (foreboding?).

A few moments had passed. He was now caked in sweat and dripping in desire. He collected himself and confidently strode into the sunlight, ready to receive.

…

Bugs trembled with his key in his palm. Could he go through those doors? Could he face Lola after what he had done? What he had felt? He looked down at his large rabbit feet, an overwhelming feeling of shame swept over him. She was with child… how could he have done this? As he put the key into the lock, he remembered why. The smooth entering of the key into the lock, the key tumblers locking into place. Meant to be. He was hit with memories of the previous hour. He reeled from the pleasure which filled his body. He knew what he had to do. He knew he couldn't leave her, but he needed more.

He strode into the house with a smile on his face. Lola had her fanny out again. This was going to be harder than he thought. His glove-clad hand started to tremble. He sighed and gently approached her, never making eye contact. His breath caught in his throat.

"We need to talk" he uttered. She slowly closed her legs, and got up from the glass table. She palmed his plump and fluffy cheek as tears started to roll down his face.

"W-What's wrong, daddy B?"

He grabbed her by the arm and screamed in her face "DON'T CALL ME THAT!" the rage had taken over for a brief moment. He cast her to the ground and started to weep.

"I'm leaving you" he blurted out. Lola started to sob. "I can't lose you, not now. Just one hour ago… I lost the baby." Just then, all of his rage subsided. He stared into the sorrow filled eyes of his former mate. "Oh Lola… I am so sorry. My sperm was too weak for your perfect womb".

"But Bugs… the doctor said that it is I who is unable to bare children, I cannot give you an heir"

In that moment all his love and attraction for the rabbit left him. All he really cared about was spreading his seed. His fury returned, he couldn't help but lift his top lip to bare his mighty teeth. Lola could see his rage, it was painted on his face like the disappointment that he had recently been experiencing during sex.

"I'm so sorry Bugs!" She wailed "So sorry for losing your baby!"

She crumpled to the ground and cried into Bugs' enormous feet. He glanced down, now free from any feelings towards that useless, empty vessel.

"Maybe you'd find it if you tried retracing your steps" he said. He kicked her off his feet and left.

…

Michael Jordan went home, took a shower, lit a fat blunt and turned up the Bob Marley.

There was a light, fluttering knock at the door. He slowly peeled himself off his bean bag and hobbled to the door. He was greeted with the face of Sylvester, awash with a look of glee and excitement.

"I ain't got no weed to sell ya today, barely got enough for myself" groaned Michael

"Oh, I'm here for a very different exotic delight, Mr Jordan" giggled Sylvester, he was clutching a video camera in his shaking hands. "I have something to show you."

Michael sat there in horror as a very familiar scene unfolded in front of his big brown eyes. He wanted to cry, but found himself the owner of an unwanted erection. Sylvester turned to him, a smug and expectant grin on his pied face.

"h…how did you…?" Michael stuttered

"It doesn't matter Michael" the puss squirmed in delight as he spoke, "I want that, and I will get it, unless you want me to show this to the townsfolk! Oh, how long it has been since the children saw a good lynching".

After minutes of pondering the conundrum, the black beast turned to face le chat noir et blanc. "Okay… I will do it. I will fuck you. But on one condition" his large digit pulsated. "Bugs can never find out".

Sylvester's face suddenly became filled with glee. "Oh Michael… but I want Bugs there! And another thing…" Sylvester lifted a mask from his dark pouch. "You must wear this Basshunter mask…during."


End file.
